


Little Bird

by srowe23555



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ed Sheeran - Freeform, M/M, little bird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srowe23555/pseuds/srowe23555
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based off the song ‘Little Bird’ by Ed Sheeran, but it’s flowerchild!Harry and punk!Louis. That’s basically it.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Harry is a flowerchild who finds an injured bird, and takes it to the closest house which happens to belong to a punk named Louis. They fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bird

Harry heard it before he saw it; the quiet squeaks emerging from somewhere deep within the bushes under the tree. They almost physically hurt him, as if the pain behind the squeaking was causing his heart to race and his ears to ring.

A bird, it was a bird.

It didn’t attack him like he expected it to when he picked it up, instead shifted a bit and shut its eyes. Harry checked its wings: they were fine. He looked for cuts on its back and head: nothing. The ball of blue and green feathers, like the ocean, Harry thought, shifted and Harry caught sight of something underneath.

Oh. That was what was wrong.

“You’re poor leg,” Harry cooed to the bird cupped in his hands.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing as he stumbled through the park, trying to find the closest house. Unfortunately for Harry, he picked the park in the middle of nowhere to explore that day, with very few houses scattered along the road joining the forest where the park was located to the main town.

Alas, he spotted a small cottage.

He skipped/ran/jogged whilst trying to gently cradle the injured animal to his chest, stopping momentarily to catch his breath and adjust the flower crown on his head.

The light of the afternoon sun blinded his eyes as he made his way up the steps to the front door. He shifted the bird so it sat, hopefully comfortably, in one of Harry’s large hands instead of both so he could knock on the door.

“Hello wh- oh. Hi?” A boy, he couldn’t have been much older than Harry, stepped out. Harry stared, drinking in the sight of his dark, brown hair, his black, studded jacket, his sinful black skinny jeans, his black combat boots, and oh, is that a piercing and eyeliner? This boy wore a lot of black. Surprising himself, Harry liked it.

“Hi, uh, I’m Harry. I found this bird. I think it’s hurt.” Harry trailed off towards the end, the last sentence barely audible. He gestured to the bundle of fluffy feathers cradled to his chest.

“Oh, oh. Ok. Come in. We could nurse it,” he said.

So, whispering to the bird that ‘everything will be ok’ and ‘you’re alright now’, Harry followed this strange, black-clad boy into his home.

“I’ll get a box or something, you can sit down. If you want, that is.” The boy mumbled and left the room. Harry sat timidly on the couch and waited for the boy to return.

Harry stroked the birds head as the boy filled the bottom of a shoe box with tissue paper, and then placed a small dish with water into one corner.

“S’alright?” He asked. Harry nodded and gently put the bird in the box. They put the box on the coffee table and watched for a little while, eventually ending up squashed next to each other on the couch.

“What’s your name?” Harry mumbled.

“Louis.” The boy replied.

Harry fell asleep after that.

~

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and his brow furrowed in confusion when he noticed he was on a couch in a stranger’s house, not his bed.

Then he remembered.

“Birdy?” He cooed, peering into the box. Harry gave a content sigh of relief when one of the bird’s eyes opened.

He looked around and found no sign of the boy, Louis, anywhere. Then he noticed something.

Harry ran his finger over the black something smudged on his shoulder and neck. Closer inspection revealed it was eyeliner.

Louis’ eyeliner.

“Harry?”

Harry jumped and nearly broke his neck from turning so quickly. Louis was standing in the doorway, smirking at the boy on the couch.

“What’s the time?” Harry asked, realising he wasn’t wearing his watch.

“5.” Louis replied, and Harry gave him a look of confusion.

“5? But that’s when I got here?”

“In the morning, Harry.” Louis sighed.

Oh.

“I slept here all night?” Harry rubbed his hands through his hair, accidentally pulling out his wilting flower petals.

Louis nodded, and explained that he wanted to wake him but he “looked so damn cute curled up on his couch that he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb him”.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a good five minutes (Harry decided that was the longest silence that he’s ever felt comfortable in ever) until Louis cleared his throat, drew in a sharp breath, and scrunched up his face as if he was trying to decide whether to speak or not.

Finally, he did.

“Harry, do you want to go for a walk with me?”

Harry nodded. They filled up the bird’s water, checked to see if it was alright, then left.

Eventually the two boys ended up wandering aimlessly through the forest. Eventually they had no shoes on and Harry just really loved the feeling of the morning dew covering his feet and Louis’ hand brushing against his own every so often. Eventually they were lying under an oak tree and Harry really didn’t know why there was an oak tree in a forest but it was nice and he wasn’t going to question.

~

“Do you want some tea?” Harry and Louis had accidentally spent the entire day under that oak tree; talking, getting to know each other, learning.

“Please.”

And so they drank tea and chatted as if they’d been friends for years. Harry really liked that.

Soon enough, or maybe too soon, they were drifting off and Louis was dragging Harry to his bed saying something about getting lonely. Honestly, Harry wasn’t listening. Louis didn’t make sense when he was sleepy, and Harry was too tired to care.

~

“Louis?” Harry shook him for the third time.

“Mm?” Louis mumbled, cracking one eye open.

“I haven’t been home in two days.”

“It’s late, love. Go back to sleep.”

He did.

~

It was around lunch time the next day, if Harry remembered correctly. Louis had woken up with tea in bed and they cuddled under the blanket with a steaming cup each (somehow Louis knew Harry liked a little bit of milk and two sugars, Harry figured he’d already told him and forgotten about it, the fact that he knew was still lovely).

Louis was washing the cups when he saw the box through the doorway. They’d both forgotten to check on it.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Harry repeated, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

Louis picked it up, and couldn’t stop the choked sob from escaping his lips when the birds head flopped down at an odd angle.

He wasn’t sure where it came from, but anger boiled over, stemming from deep within his core.

“It’s your fault!” Louis spat and Harry flinched away from him.

“My fault?! How is this my fault? If there’s anyone to be blamed for this, it’s you! You took us out today; we could have stayed home and watched it.” Harry was crying by the end, but he refused to stand down.

Louis was too angry to respond; instead he spun around and stormed out of the room. Harry crumbled to the ground and let his sobs wrack his body. It is my fault, he thought. He shouldn’t have even taken the bird in the first place. Louis was dragged into this mess because of Harry, and he was wrong to blame Louis for anything.

Harry wiped his hands across his face and put on the flower crown he’d left sitting on the table earlier. For strength, he reassured himself.

“Louis?” Harry whispered when he found the boy sitting in the garden, the bird in his hands.

Louis looked up and Harry drew in a sharp breath when he saw how red Louis’ eyes were.

“Have you been crying, Lou?”

Louis gave Harry a sad smile in response, and then turned his attention back to the bird.

“I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blame you. There was nothing we could do.” Harry placed his hand on Louis’ shoulder, and he was surprised when almost immediately Louis turned his head so it was resting against Harry’s arm.

“Wanna bury him?” Louis whispered and Harry smiled, squeezing Louis’ shoulder.

~

They’d buried the bird in the box, and Harry even put his flower crown on top of the little mound of dirt that they couldn’t level out. Louis joked that he could put his lip ring on the grave, but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to laugh.

“Can I kiss you?” Louis whispered, stepping closer to Harry.

“Yeah, Lou. Yeah, of course you can.” Harry replied and closed the gap between them.

Louis tasted like strawberries and sunshine and the metal of his lip ring and everything Harry had imagined times 1000.

~

There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. Harry moved in soon after, but they’d fight so much that he’d stay at his parents almost as much as he stayed with Louis. They loved each other though, there was no doubt about that. It was most clear on those lazy mornings, filled with strawberry tasting kisses, days spent under the oak tree, home-made tea, and the days when they’d go out and thank their little bird for helping them find each other: the punk and the flower child.


End file.
